


The Magician

by LeatherandSaltyBitters



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Female Apprentice (The Arcana), Gen, asra - Freeform, prologue rewrite, the arcana - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:28:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25668949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeatherandSaltyBitters/pseuds/LeatherandSaltyBitters
Summary: We've had a few prologue overhauls recently and I wanted to make a definitive one for my apprentice for her own route. This chapter was written a while ago so it's a bit clunky. So bear with it and this is ongoing.
Relationships: Apprentice & Asra (The Arcana), Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), Asra (The Arcana) & Reader
Kudos: 2





	The Magician

Soup.

That’s what Selasi called it.

A soupy evening. A terrible bout of the soup. Couldn’t see for all that soup.

Every time Vesuvia was hit by a particularly dramatic instance of fog, that’s the first thing he’ll say when you see him. And Vesuvia is always hit by fog. That’s a lot of soup.

That night was no exception. Hathe was transfixed by the thick, milky evening fog that had claimed the streets for itself. It had to be close to midnight now but outside was bathed in an ethereal glow, somehow otherworldly. She leaned forward against the window, the cool glass against her forehead as she distractedly tried to make out the vague shapes of lanterns and buildings, to see if anyone was brave enough to navigate themselves through.

A yawn emerged out of nowhere, surprisingly herself with own weariness, and reluctantly, Hathe dragged herself from the twilight world outside, drawing the curtains. She could hear Asra walking downstairs from the bathroom into the shop behind her.

“I’ll miss you, Hathe,” he muttered sadly, almost to himself rather than her. He wasn’t looking at her but instead was tracing the outline of some mandrake root through the glass of the counter display. He had been her mentor and, she would have liked to have thought, closest friend these past few years. He had taught her everything she knew, constantly praising her progress. The way he spoke about Hathe, anyone would have thought she were his equal. He was a fortune teller once. Her aunt (although she could barely remember now) had found him working at one of the many fortune telling booths around Vesuvia. This particular one had been operating around the back of the shop. She had seemingly taken him in and let him work out of her magic shop, in the backroom. Now Hathe’s magic shop. Upon her passing, Hathe had inherited it all. She couldn’t remember this, of course. That was all Asra could tell her. He was almost as cagey about her past as he was his own. Trying to get any more information from him had been like trying to get blood from a stone. He seemed to want to tell her more. She could tell from the way he hesitated every time she made some jokey not-serious-but-serious-if-you-want-to-tell-me comments about their past. But he’d stop himself every time. It was not something borne out of maliciousness or powerplay. Even she could see that. It seemed like … he was trying to protect her in some way. It did not stop her from becoming exasperated, however.

Hathe propped herself back against the counter, peering over her shoulder at him. “The shop won’t be the same without you,” she remarked, half mock-sentimental and the other half … well, genuinely affectionate, trying to get him to smile at least. Even better just not go. He did this all the time – disappeared for days, weeks on end. On his journeys. And Hathe seemingly had never been allowed to go as well. She often questioned why. She wasn’t a child. She was a grown woman. She was older than him! She wasn’t as adept at magic. But … she wasn’t a delicate flower. What she felt she lacked in magical ability, she was more than sure she made up in physical strength and sheer boisterousness. No idea where it came from but she felt pretty confident she could throw a punch and probably take one. Maybe she was being a little presumptuous. She hadn’t had many opportunities to test her theory out. And it was a certainly an odd calling to have. To feel like that inherently, deep down in your soul, you were probably a little thug.

Maybe he simply wanted some time away from her. After all, they only really spent time with each other. She seldom got out from the shop, except to get some supplies from time to time. Maybe some things from the market, their favourite pumpkin bread from Selasi. Asra was an odd duck – perfectly friendly and likeable. People genuinely found him sweet and charming and yet … he was something of an introvert. He preferred his own company or to just to stay in with Hathe, helping around the shop if he had the urge but more often than not … not. They had a pretty good set up a pillow pile upstairs in place of a cough. Frankly the idea of settling into all those pillows, telling Hathe jokes and stories of his travels was much more inviting than hard graft.

Sometimes he would pop out during the day or in the evening but he’d never tell her where he had been. Maybe he had been visiting his other friends. Maybe a lover? There was little point asking. As lovely as he was, as much as she’d trust him with anything, he would only answer questions like that with more questions or just laugh it off. Better not to even go down that road or she’d just end up wound up at his reticence. Perhaps it wasn’t so strange that he’d want a break from her now and again. For all her lightheartedness and playful nature, she knew she was prone to irritation if she could not make sense of something. She was working on it.

Asra did not reply. But a faint, fond smile crossed his lips as he peered sideways at her through his snowy curls.

“Do you really have to go tonight?” It was so late and that fog … was it really necessary to go out right this moment? It really couldn’t wait until the morning?

He raised his eyebrow. “You know the answer to that.”

Hathe frowned, leaning back, following the loops and swaths of the fuchsia gauze that criss-crossed the ceiling with her eyes. Well, obviously she didn’t. Otherwise she wouldn’t have asked. In another world, another time, anyone else, she would have never put up with this evasiveness. But she’d always let him get away with it. Didn’t mean she wouldn’t call him out on it now and then. She let out one loud, dramatic sigh to signify she had given up on this line of questioning. He came and went as according to his whims. If he wasn’t her keeper, she wasn’t his.

“Oh, before I go, hold out your hand.” Sidling up to her with a smile, he gave her a playful nudge with his shoulder before taking her arm gently, turning her forearm himself so that her palm was facing upwards. “I have a surprise for you.”

“It’ll be a surprise if you actually stick around rather than doing a runner again.” He simply shook his head with a grin, his violet eyes twinkled in the lamplight. Carefully he placed a deck of cards in her hand facedown.

“My tarot deck. It’s yours now. Truth be told, I should have given them to you a while ago.

Hathe peered down at the cards balanced precariously on her palm uncertainly. Not to be ungrateful but this was his deck. He created these himself, imbued them with great power. What was he playing at, giving these to her? “Just while you’re gone, right? You’ll want them back?” He gave a little shrug, still smiling. Of course. No answer. What did she expect? She paused, brow furrowed. “Uh … do you think I’m ready … “ wait, she knew just what would wind him up. “… Master … ?”

As expected, Asra’s cheeks flushed crimson and he looked away, uncomfortably. “You’re still calling me that?”

Oh, she didn’t mean it. She referred to him as Master Asra if someone asked about him. It just seemed polite. No matter how close they were, she was still his apprentice. It’s only respectful to refer to him as such. But to his face, oh, it really embarrassed him. And it didn’t seem natural to her either, unless it was in gentle jest. He seemed to not like to think of himself as her superior and despite her doubts about her abilities and magical status, she really respected and valued that. He never looked down on her, never patronised her. Asra always spoke of her with such confidence, of how gifted and powerful she was. But she had no idea what that was based on. Sure, she had been doing well. She was improving. But she was just an amateur. What could he see that she couldn’t? Magical abilities aside, she was a little older than him on top of that. Taller to boot. So the idea of her referring to him as Master amused her immensely. Sometimes he’d laugh along and they’d come up with increasingly outlandish titles of nobility to call each other throughout the course of the day. But occasionally it seemed to trouble him. Truthfully, nothing more seedy than that ever crossed her mind when she called him that. She certainly hoped he didn’t think she was implying anything untoward. Maybe she’d knock it on the head if that was the case. If the joke died, then that was it.

Clearing his throat, his cheeks still burning, he continued, “I can’t answer that for you. You’ve made such incredible progress, but you’re still holding onto your doubt. You must decide when you’re ready. You’re more than capable of handling anything the arcana reveal to you.”

Oh, it’s like that, is it? The well-worn cards seemed to pulse and thrum in her hands, as she turned each card over, examining the animal heads adorning them. With one long nail, she traced the vulpine head of the Magician. “Why don’t you ever answer my questions?” she muttered, finally getting bored of this game. He was due to go any minute and he still wouldn’t offer her a modicum of guidance. Why was he being so obtuse tonight?

That seemed to wound him slightly but surely he was not surprised. “Don’t I?” His eyes followed the path her finger was taking, now on the pointed tips of the fox’s ears. “Perhaps the cards will have the answer.”

She followed his gaze to the backroom, swathed in more billowing plumes of gauze, a few rays of starlight lighting the small round table in the centre of it in an glacial silver glow.

“It’s been a while since we’ve practised,” he noted, shifting the curtain for them both to enter.

“Because you’re always gone?” Hathe retorted. He seemed to take that one hard too, his face falling just a little. He appeared particularly sensitive this evening. She would have to stop now. It was no fun if he didn’t laugh at himself too.

Sitting down at the table, Asra risked one little glance at her with an almost apologetic smile. “Well, let’s see what the cards say.”

She took her seat across from him, setting the deck on the table. She felt something slide across the ankle of her boot, barely there but just enough to make her start.

“Oh?” Asra’s eyebrows raised and he peered under the table, holding out his hand. A beautiful lavender serpent started to wind its way up his arm. Her tongue flicked out at Hathe playfully, her crimson eyes bright and curious. She finally settled at his shoulder, watching over proceedings, clearly curious to see what the cards held too. Faust. Asra’s familiar. Hathe had never had a familiar of her own and wasn’t sure how or if she’d ever get the opportunity to form that sort of connection. But she was very fond of Faust. When Asra went away …well, he probably never felt alone with her at his side. She was such an affectionate little thing, charming and lively. Truthfully, Hathe was a little jealous. When she was left alone in the shop, she would not have minded having a little familiar to converse with, even if it was somewhat one-sided. “If we’re all here, let’s begin.”

Hathe shuffled and cut the deck carefully, trying to remember each movement as she was taught, letting the cards guide her. His gaze followed the cards as they slipped through her fingers.

All she needed was a single card spread. Just one card to give a clear concise answer.

Turning the card, she was greeted with the bright red eyes of an owl clad in periwinkle.

“… The High Priestess.”

Asra leaned in close, expectantly, hanging on her every word. “And what is she telling you? Is she speaking to you now?”

She could never understand the hows and whys but the Arcana spoke to her. She didn’t have to do much interpretation on her end because the cards were always very clear with her. They didn’t speak in any tongue that could be recognised as human but their intentions could not be misinterpreted. With a clear mind, their voices were as clear as a bell. Hathe could have never been accused of having a calm, serene mind. From the outside, perhaps. But her mind has always been going ten to the dozen. But when she read the cards, she was able to tap into some source of clarity and tranquility. Every other thought and impulse was silenced so the voice of the arcana could speak plainly. A serene, feminine voice cut through the silence, whispering softly to her.

“You’ve forsaken her.”

His eyes widened, startled. “I have?” he said, somewhat taken aback.

“Yes. You’ve pushed her away and buried her voice.”

Asra frowned but stayed silent, waiting for Hathe to continue.

Brow furrowed, she listened carefully to the High Priestess’ words, trying to resist the temptation to interpret and dissect the meaning herself. “She calls out to you, but you won’t listen. Asra, if you ignore her—”

A sharp knock at the front door of the shop startled all three of them. Hathe tried to discreetly cover up her little start that sent a few cards flying across the table. Were they expecting anyone?

Asra’s eyes were just as wide as hers, but he seemed to have handled the intrusion with far more grace. “A customer at this hour?” He gave a teasing smile. “Did we forget to put out the lantern again?”

Hathe wrinkled her nose with a little smirk. “Oh, is that a royal ‘we’? ‘We’ being ’me’, is it?” He wrinkled her nose right back at her, lightheartedly, before his smile faded as quickly as it appeared.

“Just as well, I can’t stay any longer.” Sluggishly and unwillingly, Asra got to his feet, tidying up the cards on the table, before starting to gather his things.

Hathe couldn’t supress a little irritated sigh as she got to her feet and wandered back into the shop. She eyed the front door warily. It was almost certainly too late to be opening the door to just anyone at this time of night. Start opening your door to any customer at any time and you may as well write welcome across your forehead. Still … her natural curiosity was kicking in … who’s that desperate to get into an old magic shop at this time of night … ?

Her thoughts were interrupted by Asra finally making his way out of the backroom where he had kept a few bits and pieces, winding his shawl around his shoulders as Faust constantly kept shifting to get herself comfortable. He placed the deck back on the counter next to Hathe, very aware of her growing exasperation but trying his best to glaze over it. She was trying to glaze over it too. She wasn’t jealous. She was just frustrated. At times, it felt like they only had each other but he kept putting up this wedge between them. It was frustrating to be kept just at arm’s length by someone who you had been forced to rely on for so long. To feel warmth and affection, but distance at the same time. It was a familiar feeling … but she couldn’t place where from.

“I’m sorry you can’t come with me … “ He smiled as sympathetically as possible, trying to catch her eye. But is there anything you’d like me to bring back from this trip?”

Hathe felt herself softening. He was trying, bless him. But if he was so reluctant to go, why was he going? There was no point going over this in her head again. She was only going to get herself more wound up and she was never going to get the answers she needed. So it was best to give this up for the night. She let her eyes wander over the packed shelves, full of magical trinkets and ingredients, mentally checking off the stock best she could without her list. When the shop was quiet, she had a habit of just rewriting the stocklist over and over. Somehow making these lists helped her keep a little focussed, stopped her mind from wandering too far. Without it now, it was just guesswork. She’d probably kick herself in the morning once she’d check the stock levels.

She accepted the olive branch. “We’re running low on powdered aconite and fogwood bark.”

He gave her a mischievous grin, eyes sparkling. “Alright. Anything else? Something more exciting?” He raised an eyebrow.

She couldn’t help but chuckle as she remembered some of the downright ridiculous things he brought back with him. What she would say for him was as evasive of responsibility as he was, he always helped her clean up after whatever mess he caused with these things. The last one was a particular doozy. The kitchen was an absolute state and took the best part of a week to get back in order and the curtains still changed colour when it rained. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately if it was a slow day, Vesuvia was prone to a few little thunderstorms.

“Surprise me. As long as it’s not too outlandish.”

He beamed back at her, cheekily. “No promises there.”

Yet again his smile faded into something all too serious. He gathered his bag from his feet, once again having to arrange the straps around Faust who almost huffed as she had to contort herself into another comfortable position around his shoulders. Asra fixed Hathe with a careful gaze. “Take it easy while I’m gone, alright? Don’t push yourself too hard. You’re still missing your memories … And it will take patience to get them back.”

That was easy for him to say. He was always urging her to be patient despite the chasm of darkness where nearly thirty something worth of years once were. To have less memories than a toddler … to have a whole life she knew nothing about. Well, it was all well and good to tell her to sit her and wait for him, twiddling her thumbs. And once she wouldn’t have questioned him at all. The headaches every time they tried to get her memories back had been an agony she had never experienced and would not dare repeat. Even after she woke up in his arms, three years ago, there were even black spots in her memory from that first year or so. She knew it came from a good place – he was doing it to keep her safe. He had had to watch her struggle to recall even a semblance of who she once was. Apparently there had times where it had consumed her utterly and she had become catatonic. So she could understand why he would try and avoid that again. But it was just another source of frustration for her. She had no choice but to be patient. But it was just another thing hovering over her. She had to just accept that something took away a large chunk of her life, that any memories had to be secondhand, passed down by Asra. And even then he had to only feed her the tiniest amount or she’d be overwhelmed.

Asra caught her pensive mood. “You’ll be fine as long as you’re careful, Hathe,” he reassured her as he reached out to gently squeeze her shoulder. Faust gave an encouraging little flick of her tongue. “Promise me you’ll stay out of trouble.”

As quickly as her dissatisfaction built, his easy smile dissipated it just as quickly. She grinned impishly. “But I love trouble!” The tension building in her shoulders started to ease.

He laughed fondly, bumping his shoulder into hers. Faust made a show of not shifting from her spot now that she had got comfortable. “Oh, I know that too well. Just make sure you pick the right kind of trouble.”

Hathe saw it then. He didn’t want to go. She didn’t want him to go. And he knew that she could tell. Which almost certainly meant he was going to go now. And fast. He almost ran to the backdoor, arranging his magenta silk scarf about his face, fixing his feathered hat upon his head. It was like he was trying to shield himself from her gaze now. “Well, then … “ The conversation was over and the decision had been final. But still he hesitated, as if he had something more to say.

But the words didn’t come. At least not the ones he wanted to say. Finally, he said quietly with finality, “Until we meet again.” Then he’s gone, slipping silently out the back door.

She knew they’d see each other before long, just like all the times before. But when he left, suddenly that little shop felt cavernous. She wasn’t a needy person. She already knew she was very self-reliant in spite of everything. Her thoughts kept her company. She could strike up conversation relatively easy once she got the measure of someone. She was not a lonely person. Once she got back into the swing of things, she’d be just fine. But every time Asra came back only to leave again, she was always hit by this acute wave of loneliness.

It would fade quickly. Tomorrow morning, it would be business as usual. She’d casually hope he was okay, that he’s some fun stories to tell, that he’d have something unusual to show her. Then she should get on with her day. But in the very moment he left her, she always felt this incredible sense of loss. Not just of Asra. It was more than that. Somehow for everyone she once knew but could never remember. A life before. Did anyone miss her? Was anyone else waiting for her to come home?

Another sharp insistent knock cut through her somewhat self-indulgent bout of navel-gazing.

Hathe winced. “Ah.”


End file.
